(no subject)
There’s beauty in the breakdown. You have to give and give and give and cry and what do you get? You are filled with fear of ulterior motives. You just really want to ask and get an honest uncensored answer. “What do you want from me?” “What am I to you?” Does it really matter? Does anything matter? I feel sick from last night’s amount of glasses never empty. I wonder what I said and what I meant by what I did. I wonder what is truth and what is twisted in my crazy beautifully confused easily persuaded mind. I tire of trying to figure this out. They say to me “Helen honey, you don’t have to do this.” And I say I know I know of course of course but I really like him, and I do love him too. “Well Helen only you know for sure, and you have to make your own decisions.” “But what we see is fresh hot wet streams on your face and pain in your eyes. What we don’t see is your smiling sweet happy face.”
I hang up the phone and they rush over, kissing my head, squeezing my hand, handing me another glass. “He’s a jerk and you deserve so much better.”
He brings me down? He brings me down. He makes me cry. “No baby, you make you cry. You are far too sensitive.” No, I am what I am. And I still need growing room and a comfort to my upset stomach. Anxiety makes me want to throw it all up and get rid of the cause. You are the cause. Caffeine and then alcohol. Sleep and caffeine. Stress and alcohol. Sleep and wake. Coffee and wine. Iron on the side. Espressos and Baileys. Long long talks that make me wonder if maybe I really am worth more than I think when this is on. Not in a shoe. Friday night was 11 no thank you’s and 3 okay, alright’s. Last night was 3 no’s and 7 or 8 or 9 yes please’s.
Do you get me? I don’t know. Is this real? I don’t know. Is this fair? No.
I can’t even trust my own mother. Who else on this earth am I ever going to not doubt? Will anyone ever not break my heart? Yes and no.
I want to throw it up.
Maybe this is my addiction.
Maybe I should listen to everyone else.
I am torn, I am sick, I am defeat, what do I have to do? A lot.
Lord God, tell me what to do. I can’t make this decision on my own. Show me. Please Lord. I only want to do the right thing.
-sunday, when i was more anxious than ever, and more sick, and more worried.
i've cried so many tears in the past three days. every time i take a step back i realize that i look like my mother. in my own eyes, i look like her. unhappy. upset, worthless. with my squinching face feeling like a victim. this didn't happen when i was moving on. this didn't happen when i walked with the bitter taste of a broken heart but with the renewal of thoughts of hope, and doing things right and laughter with friends. this didn't happen the day that you said "helen, i want you. you're what i want." this didn't happen the day that you said "i would do anything for you, i see myself with you and no one else." this didn't happen the day that we had chicken noodle soup and laughed about each other. this didnt happen the day that you took my hands and said "honey but i'm changing and i know this is God's grace and i don't know what is going to happen but i do know that i love you and i appreciate you so much more now, and you're an extra incentive"
confusion.
what am i supposed to do?
the best thing that i heard this weekend was when my aunt and uncle said to me, with tears in their eyes, "helen sweetheart, you don't have to fix people. you can't, and you've been realizing this within the last few years. you've been a little mom in training since you were six years old but you don't have to fix people. it's such an honorable thing and it shows your selfless loving heart but you can't spend your life trying to fix people, you are not going to succeed."
i cried and felt more known than i had ever been before.
I hang up the phone and they rush over, kissing my head, squeezing my hand, handing me another glass. “He’s a jerk and you deserve so much better.”
He brings me down? He brings me down. He makes me cry. “No baby, you make you cry. You are far too sensitive.” No, I am what I am. And I still need growing room and a comfort to my upset stomach. Anxiety makes me want to throw it all up and get rid of the cause. You are the cause. Caffeine and then alcohol. Sleep and caffeine. Stress and alcohol. Sleep and wake. Coffee and wine. Iron on the side. Espressos and Baileys. Long long talks that make me wonder if maybe I really am worth more than I think when this is on. Not in a shoe. Friday night was 11 no thank you’s and 3 okay, alright’s. Last night was 3 no’s and 7 or 8 or 9 yes please’s.
Do you get me? I don’t know. Is this real? I don’t know. Is this fair? No.
I can’t even trust my own mother. Who else on this earth am I ever going to not doubt? Will anyone ever not break my heart? Yes and no.
I want to throw it up.
Maybe this is my addiction.
Maybe I should listen to everyone else.
I am torn, I am sick, I am defeat, what do I have to do? A lot.
Lord God, tell me what to do. I can’t make this decision on my own. Show me. Please Lord. I only want to do the right thing.
-sunday, when i was more anxious than ever, and more sick, and more worried.
i've cried so many tears in the past three days. every time i take a step back i realize that i look like my mother. in my own eyes, i look like her. unhappy. upset, worthless. with my squinching face feeling like a victim. this didn't happen when i was moving on. this didn't happen when i walked with the bitter taste of a broken heart but with the renewal of thoughts of hope, and doing things right and laughter with friends. this didn't happen the day that you said "helen, i want you. you're what i want." this didn't happen the day that you said "i would do anything for you, i see myself with you and no one else." this didn't happen the day that we had chicken noodle soup and laughed about each other. this didnt happen the day that you took my hands and said "honey but i'm changing and i know this is God's grace and i don't know what is going to happen but i do know that i love you and i appreciate you so much more now, and you're an extra incentive"
confusion.
what am i supposed to do?
the best thing that i heard this weekend was when my aunt and uncle said to me, with tears in their eyes, "helen sweetheart, you don't have to fix people. you can't, and you've been realizing this within the last few years. you've been a little mom in training since you were six years old but you don't have to fix people. it's such an honorable thing and it shows your selfless loving heart but you can't spend your life trying to fix people, you are not going to succeed."
i cried and felt more known than i had ever been before.